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His vision blurred in and out, dark spots flickering at the edge of his sight, every step sent a sharp pulse of pain through his body, like electricity under skin. He didn’t remember taking out the keys, nor fitting them into the lock, his mind had gone on autopilot, single-mindedly focused on getting home.
He crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him, leaning against it for the briefest second as the world tilted. He turned his head just enough to read the clock hanging on the wall: 4:36 a.m.
The apartment was silent, as it should be at this hour. He slipped off his shoes, jaw clenching as the fabric brushed against the wound on his leg, a hiss almost escaping him. He could taste the metal in his mouth as he placed the briefcase down carefully by the entryway, making absolutely sure there were no visible traces of blood on it, or anywhere near it.
He took a step toward the bathroom, then another. His body felt impossibly heavy, like gravity itself was fighting him. Each movement required force and willpower, both which he was rapidly losing. Then, he heard a voice.
“Loid?”
It echoed softly from the hallway and, for a moment, the pain receded just enough for him to breathe. He hadn’t noticed her presence until he heard her, but Yor stood there, wearing her nightdress, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes half-closed in confusion.
But the moment she saw him clearly, her expression snapped into full alertness. “Loid!" She gasped, not loud enough to wake the house, but sharp with panic.
She hurried toward him, arms out, catching him just before he swayed forward. Her hands found his shoulders and then his waist, steadying him. She was warm, steady, grounding.
He raised his eyes to meet hers and tried to speak, to reassure her, to say ‘Don’t worry, I’m fine.’ But the words lodged in his throat, strangled by the fire burning through his abdomen and down his leg, all he managed was a strained exhale.
“Can you hear me?” Yor asked, voice trembling as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Loid gave a faint nod, his body betrayed him with a stumble immediately after, knees almost buckling, and she reacted instantly, shifting her stance so he could lean into her without falling.
“This is bad." She whispered and he didn’t answer, he couldn’t.
With careful movements she guided him down the hallway, matching his weak steps. She sat him on Anya’s little bathroom stool, lowering him slowly as if he might break further.
She knelt in front of him, eyes quickly scanning his condition. When she saw the dark stains spreading across his clothes, she winced, not in disgust, but in fear.
“I’ll be right back." She breathed, her hand ghosted briefly over his cheek before she pulled away.
She disappeared for a moment, and the bathroom suddenly felt colder, quieter. Without her steady touch, the pain rushed back in full force, he inhaled through his teeth, gripping the edges of the stool hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.
His vision blurred again, he blinked slowly, trying to stay present, then he heard footsteps again.
Yor returned holding the medical kit they kept locked in their bedroom, the one with tools Anya shouldn’t have access to and her expression was focused now. She set the kit on the counter, hands trembling slightly, she looked at him for a moment, eyes soft and wet in the bathroom light.
“Loid… I’m here." She said quietly, almost like a promise.
She knelt in front of him again, the tile cold against her knees, but her focus never wavered, her voice soft and careful.
“I need to take your shirt off to treat the wounds, okay?”
He didn’t trust his voice, so he gave a short nod, and even that movement sent a ripple of pain across his ribs. Yor’s hands hovered for a moment before they touched him, warm palms ghosting over his chest and back as she helped him out of the blood-soaked fabric. She tossed the shirt on the floor, not giving it a second look.
The air hit his skin and he shivered, every bruise and cut came into view, dark marks blooming along his ribs, claw-like scratches along his side, and a bullet hole through the outer part of his upper arm.
Yor inhaled sharply, horror flickering through her eyes before she masked it, she was terrified for him.
“I’ll take care of you.” She murmured, her voice breaking just slightly before she forced it steady again.
She set to work immediately, switching to assassin mode, but still reflecting the tenderness of a wife. Her fingers pressed lightly around the gunshot wound, testing for an exit wound. None, so the bullet was still inside.
“It’s still lodged." She whispered, more to herself than to him. She grabbed the sterilized tweezers from the kit and a thick folded gauze to catch the bullet, her hands shook for a split second before she stopped herself, inhaled, and steadied them.
“This is going to hurt." She warned.
Loid let out a weak laugh. “Already does.”
She slid the tweezers into the wound and a raw groan broke from him, his muscles tightening instinctively. Yor flinched at the sound, her whole body reacting to his pain, but she didn’t stop, she just worked faster.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… almost there, please hold on.”
Another muffled growl tore from his chest, and then, a metallic clink. The bullet dropped onto the gauze in her hand and Yor wrapped it immediately, sealing away the evidence. She took a breath and moved to the next step.
She poured disinfectant onto a sterile pad, the smell of alcohol filled the small bathroom as she brought it to his skin. The first contact made Loid tense hard, breath catching in his throat.
“I know… I’m sorry." She whispered again, her voice barely more than air, she cleaned each wound, apologizing under her breath each time he flinched, gasped, or shifted away from instinct.
Once, he jerked away before he could stop himself, pain forcing the motion. Yor froze immediately, retreating her hand as if burned.
“I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t." He muttered through clenched teeth. “You’re doing great. I’m sorry I keep moving around.”
She swallowed, nodded, and continued, her free hand rested gently against his ribs for support and stability. That small point of contact grounded him more than the stool beneath him.
When the cleaning was done, she began wrapping his arm. Her movements turned almost delicate. She wound the bandage around his arm with the perfect amount of pressure, secure enough to stop bleeding but not enough to cause discomfort.
By then, Loid’s mind was clearing, the fog finally thinning as the adrenaline faded and the immediate agony dulled. He watched her in silence, studying the concentration in her eyes, the set of her brows, the careful control in her breathing.
Her hair fell over her face, and he could see the sheen in her eyes, she was fighting not to cry. And even though she didn’t look up, he knew she felt his gaze on her. Her hands slowed just slightly as she wrapped the last loop of gauze.
“Sorry for bothering you… I know you don’t get many nights where you can sleep all the way through.” Loid spoke quietly, eyes lowered in embarrassment.
It didn’t matter that he was bleeding, exhausted, barely staying upright, his mind still found a way to feel guilty. He hated being a burden, especially to her.
She had already worked overtime this week, four clients in a row, and had complained, shyly, in her own way, about not being able to sleep enough.
Yor shook her head immediately, smoothing more bandage across his arm. “It’s not a bother, Loid. I was asleep until I heard you come in, and tomorrow we don’t have to wake up early, we can take the day slow.”
He silently thanked whatever gods existed, if they existed, for the fact that tomorrow, technically today, was Saturday, and they didn’t have any missions scheduled.
As she shifted to tend to the wound on his torso, Yor added lightly, almost joking to ease the tension. “Besides, there had to be some advantage to being married to an assassin. Who else would treat this better than me?”
Loid let out a pained exhale that might have been a laugh. “You say it like I’m only with you because of that. There’re so many other reasons why I love you.” His voice was weak, but what he meant vibrated under the words.
He didn’t elaborate, didn’t need to. Her cheeks flushed faintly, her expression faltering for a second before she composed herself again, focusing back on the bandaging.
She wrapped the bandage around his ribs carefully, adjusting the pressure, her breath against his skin, the concentration in her eyes, the warmth of her hands.
“What happened to leave you like this?” Yor asked eventually, her voice steady but strained. “I thought you said it was a simple mission to recover some info.”
Loid released a breath that almost resembled a laugh, except there was no strength behind it, only resignation. “Yes, and it was going perfectly, but turns out they hired more security for the event than expected. I got the intel, but I was discovered on my way out and had to improvise an escape route.”
Yor’s brows drew together, worrying, tightening her movements for a moment. “There must’ve been a lot of them for you to end up like this.”
“Oh, absolutely." He sighed. “And the worst part is they’ll probably reinforce security even more now, which means the objective will be harder to approach than ever. We might need to start the operation from the beginning.”
She could see it happening, the shift in his expression, the tightness around his mouth, the distant look in his eyes. Loid was spiraling into the same loop he always did when a mission didn’t go well, reviewing every route he could’ve taken, every decision he could’ve changed, even when he knew it was useless. The spy mentality never fully switched off.
Without a word, Yor leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his temple and Loid froze out of surprise. His tired eyes lifted to hers, searching.
“You did the best you could." She whispered, her voice gentle but firm, as if she needed him to believe it.
A small, exhausted smile tugged at Loid’s lips, faint but real, the first of the night. Yor smiled back, equally tired, equally sincere.
And for a moment, the pain, the blood, the mission, the mistakes, all of it faded. There was only the warmth of her touch, and the quiet safety of their home.
“I’ll bring you a glass of water so you can take some painkillers before bed. Your body will thank you tomorrow." She said, her voice soft but decisive.
Loid didn’t move, partly because she asked him not to, partly because he knew he couldn’t. Yor left the bathroom and for a moment the silence pressed in on him again, broken only by the faint ringing in his ears and the rhythmic drip of water from the faucet.
She returned seconds later, holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of tablets in the other. He took the pills from her, popped them into his mouth and accepted the glass she offered. He drank a few deep gulps until he felt the bitter taste slide down his throat and settle unpleasantly on his tongue.
Then, Yor finished wrapping the bandage around his torso, looking toward his legs with concern. “We should deal with those too.”
“It’s fine." Loid muttered before she could kneel again. “They’re minor, I can handle it.”
She hesitated, wanting to stay and care for him, but finally nodded. “Alright… if you’re sure.”
She gathered the bloodstained clothes from the floor and folded them into her arms. “I’ll soak these before the stains set, don’t worry about it.”
Loid wasn’t entirely sure what mysterious mixture Yor used on laundry, but she somehow always managed to make even the worst stains of blood disappear. He simply nodded and watched her leave through the doorway, the soft sound of her slippers fading down the hall.
He exhaled slowly, leaning forward to roll up his pant leg. The wounds on his legs, now that he actually looked, weren’t insignificant, just… nothing compared to the rest. He cleaned them with disinfectant, wincing as the sting hit raw skin, and bandaged them up.
He replayed the mission in his head again the footsteps he should’ve listened for, the guard rotation he misjudged, the exit he should’ve memorized earlier. A dozen alternate scenarios unfolded in his mind, all of them ending with him escaping cleanly, uninjured, unnoticed, and all of them making tonight feel like failure.
He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until he felt his heartbeat in his wounds. He forced himself to resume the task, wetting a clean cloth and running it over his arms, chest and back, wiping away dried sweat, dirt, and flecks of blood. The water was lukewarm now, and every touch dragged at his exhausted muscles.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, barely recognizable under fatigue and bruises, and the thought flickered again. ‘Not good enough.’ He didn’t hear Yor approach until she spoke softly behind him.
“Loid?”
He turned slightly, blinking as if resurfacing from underwater, she stood at the doorway holding one of his pajama sets, the dark blue one she knew was soft enough not to irritate the bandages. Her expression softened when she saw his face.
“How are you feeling?" She asked gently and Loid let out a humorless huff.
“Never felt better.” There was irony in his tone but no bite, only exhaustion.
Yor didn’t scold him for it, she stepped closer and handed him the clothes, her fingertips brushing his for a second longer than needed.
“These should be comfortable." She said, then she gathered the medical supplies from the counter, placed everything neatly back into the first aid kit, and lifted it against her hip. “I’ll take this to the bedroom, I’ll be waiting for you to sleep.”
Loid’s expression eased, something small and warm tugging at his tired features. “I won’t be long." He promised with a faint smile.
Yor nodded and slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the door half-open behind her.
He finished cleaning himself, then changed into the pajamas with slow movements, each stretch and bend reminding him of fresh bandages. He brushed his teeth out of stubborn discipline more than energy and before leaving, he dropped the used cloth at the bottom of the laundry hamper to make sure Anya wouldn’t accidentally find it.
He switched off the bathroom light, the soft glow spilling from the bedroom where Yor waited. He dragged his feet across the wooden floor and headed toward their room.
When he crossed the bedroom doorway, the weight of the night hit him all at once, like stepping underwater, his body suddenly ten times heavier than before. He didn’t bother with finesse, he simply dropped onto the mattress with a long exhale.
“I feel like I just got run over by a truck." He muttered into the pillow.
Yor let out a soft, sympathetic smile and settled beside him, her fingers reaching to brush a few stray strands of blond hair from his forehead, smoothing them away like he was a restless child. She threaded her fingers through his hair gently, brushing along his scalp in slow, soothing strokes.
Loid shifted closer, his movements sluggish but intent as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. Their legs intertwined beneath the blankets, their bodies fitting together perfectly.
Yor rested her hand on his shoulder, concerned across her face. “Doesn’t this hurt with your injuries?”
“Probably." He admitted with a tired breath. “But right now I’m too exhausted to care, the painkillers might be doing their job already.”
She smiled softly, stroking his hair again. “We’re staying in bed until noon.”
Loid huffed a laugh dry, but real. “Or until Anya decides it’s time to wake up.” Both of them chuckled quietly at that, the sound barely above a whisper.
He nuzzled closer, settling his face into the warm hollow of her neck. Her scent grounded him. “Thank you..." He murmured, voice muffled against her skin. “For everything tonight.”
“You don’t have to thank me." Yor said immediately, her voice soft but firm. “You’re hurt, of course I’d help you.”
“I know." Loid whispered. “But… it means more than you think.”
Yor’s movements stilled for a second, overcome by emotion she wasn’t sure how to express. Then she wrapped her arms around him fully, one hand rubbing slow circles along his back careful to avoid the bandages, gentle in a way no assassin’s hands were ever meant to be.
“I worry about you." She admitted in a hush, barely louder than a breath. “Every time you leave for a mission… I'm scared of how you’ll return… if you’ll return at all…”
Loid’s grip tightened around her waist, not painfully, just sincerely. “I worry about you too, you know… even someone as skilled as you can’t avoid danger entirely.”
Their eyes didn’t need to meet for the meaning to settle, deep, mutual, undeniable. Yor smiled, trying to erase some of the tension accumulated. “I can’t believe I worry more about your missions than my own.”
He looked at her, imitating her expression. “Funny, same thing happens to me.”
Yor let out a tired little laugh. “We’re a strange pair, aren’t we?”
“The strangest." Loid agreed, his voice warm with affection. “But I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and he didn’t move, but his breathing shifted as if each beat of her heart against his cheek was coaxing him deeper into calm.
“Sleep, you've had a rough day." Yor whispered.
Loid’s eyelids were already heavy, his words trailing into drowsiness. “You too… don’t stay awake worrying about me.”
“Too late for that." Yor murmured, brushing her thumb along his cheek. “But I’ll be right here.”
He hummed, barely conscious, and nuzzled closer, his leg tightening around hers. She pulled the blankets up over them both, cocooning them in warmth. She didn’t stop stroking his hair until his breathing evened out completely.
Within minutes, exhaustion claimed her too and the house fell quiet once again.